Instinct
by Flitty
Summary: Harry has a certain... aversion to death, and while it keeps him alive, it doesn't seem to care about consequences. Consequences which include loss of identity, broken prophecies, and a whole lot of extra study time.
1. Complacent

**Story belongs to JK Rowling. That is all.**

* * *

If there was one thing that Harry had kept from his time at the Dursleys', it was his survival instinct.

Not the scars, or the fear, or the loneliness. That had all been healed from the moment that he stepped into Hogwarts.

But even coming to the end of his second year, Harry's instincts were as spot-on as ever. He'd ignored the Mirror of Erised, knocked out the troll, reversed the spell on his flailing broom, rolled harmlessly onto the grass from a speed that most cars couldn't reach, blocked a curse from the monster that feasted on unicorn blood, picked the right potion to get him through the barrier, and slammed his hands into Quirrel's face to kill him, and that was all in the first year. The second involved a giant snake, a diary, a car with a bad attitude, an elf with an arguably worse attitude, his friend's sister, Lord Voldemort (again), gnomes, pixies, and a suspicious number of reflective surfaces.

And although he'd overcome all of that, when he looked back on it, he couldn't make heads or tails of _how_. How was it that he could suddenly cast shields that blocked blasting curses from Voldemort, weakened though he was? How could he speak to snakes without ever hearing anything but hissing just moments before? How could he cast a _wingardium leviosa_ strong enough to pick up a magic-resistant, six foot tall, solid wood club?

Of course, that didn't matter right now. It was in the back of his mind all the time, but as tempting as it was to let his thoughts wander, he didn't want to miss any cues on such a deadly potion as-

Ah. He'd missed a cue while thinking about missing cues. How ironic. The potion, which should have turned pink with golden swirls after the addition of powdered kneazel claw, instead began fizzing, emitting a screech that he imagined was how mandrakes sounded.

Time seemed to slow down, and less caught by surprise this time, Harry finally had a chance to properly observe the effects that his intuitive state brought with it.

Harry felt... urgent, but calm at the same time. He didn't fear death, because he just knew that he wasn't going to die. It was preventable, and inexplicably, he knew exactly how.

That was what Harry truly feared. It wasn't the Whomping Willow, or Voldemort, or the killing curse itself. It was these strange moments of clarity, and the information that he pulled from who knew where. He was certain that he wasn't being manipulated, but how else could he possibly know everything that he seemed to during his calm moments?

Nonchalantly, almost lazily, Harry poured a tablespoon of salt into the brew. That was quickly followed by a dozen beetle eyes, three unicorn tail hairs, a bezoar and a slightly crumpled piece of parchment. Against all odds, the potion began to sort itself out. The bubbles were absorbed by the parchment, the screeching made way for silence, and the bezoar neutralised the noxious gas that had risen, all but unnoticed in the panic.

Harry sighed. He was beginning to wonder if it was actually possible for him to die. His instinct grew stronger the closer he became, and that even took into account things that he couldn't sense. If someone came up behind him and cast a silent killing curse, he'd be dodging before the spell left their wand. He wondered if his magic would force him to stop aging if he became close to dying of old age, but he put it out of his mind. There was no way to tell for quite a while, after all.

Ladling out a portion of the clear potion, Harry sighed at what he was about to do, before putting it to his lips-

And drinking what he hoped was a regular Polyjuice potion. It was worrying that he hadn't been forced to put a hair in; when he'd tried drinking Hermione's batch, he'd ended up throwing the vial to the other side of the room, so obviously it was fatal if you didn't choose a person to transform into.

Also obviously, he'd just drank a potion that wasn't what he'd been planning to make, and he had no idea of what effects it could have. And he was in the Chamber of Secrets, where he couldn't just walk to Madam Pomfrey. That was bad.

It could have been worse though. A reliable source told him that he wouldn't die, so he had that going for him. He was annoyed that his instinct only worked for actual death, though; if it was painful and irrevocably body-altering, but wouldn't actually kill him, his danger-sensing vanished and left him with a set of skills that, if he was honest with himself, he'd neglected in his ability's favour.

A sudden wave of pain in his chest, like he'd swallowed something big enough to push his lungs out of the way, informed Harry that the next few minutes were not going to be fun in the slightest.

* * *

He was right.

It was not fun.

He was also wrong.

Unless minutes could literally feel like days, he was very, _very_ wrong.

" _Tempus_ ," Harry croaked the moment that he could use his magic to do anything but conjure water to keep him alive. His instinct had actually activated once or twice while he was down here, but thankfully hadn't gotten to the point where he moved of his own accord. Even if he wasn't in control at those moments, he could still feel all the pain that moving would have caused.

It took him a while to focus on the numbers floating in front of him. His eyes, already hampered by his incorrect prescription, refused to cooperate after the pain and sleeplessness of the past few days. After going cross-eyed a few times, though, he finally managed to see the date and time.

It didn't sink in for a while, but when it did, Harry swore and leapt to his feet, suddenly finding it easy to ignore the pain. Even so, he still wobbled. He held his hand out in front of him, grimacing as he realised that he was shivering uncontrollably. His legs were worst of all, forced to support him as they were. They felt numb, but the soles of his feet were tingling with pins and needles. He'd barely be able to get to the pipe leading to the bathroom, let alone climb it. Knowing that, he suddenly felt that the floor seemed very comfortable, so he sat down and waited for the weakness to pass.

* * *

It was another two hours before Harry's shivering stopped, and he tapped his foot on the floor in agitation. The Hogwarts Express must have left by now. He was alone in the castle, and he was certain that apart from the ghosts and the Hogwarts house elves - which he'd really only heard rumours of - there was nobody here.

Although speaking of house elves...

"Dobby," Harry whispered. His throat still felt stretched and raw. There was a small pop, a far cry from the whip-crack that Dobby's apparition had made last time and a sign that he was becoming healthier already, and Dobby was in front of him, eager to serve as he always was and dressed in an actual outfit now, a butler suit that covered his scrawny arms and made him almost seem like a small human. The beanie on his head and the mismatched socks on both his ears and feet threw off the image a little, but overall, Dobby had changed incredibly quickly from a self-harming slave to a happy hard worker.

"Harry Potter is needing Dobby, Harry Potter sir?" Dobby asked, then gasped as he saw his idol. "Ooh, you is not looking good, sir."

Harry chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "I'm fine, Dobby. Can you apparate through wards with a wizard?"

"Dobby is not knowing, sir," he replied immediately. "Wizards not often ask elfses for using magic. Apparition is not hurting Dobby or Harry Potter, but Dobby is not knowing if apparition will work until Dobby tries, sir."

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wondering where to go. "Assuming you could take me, how far would you be able to go?"

"Dobby can go with a wizard for all across England, great Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is powerful for a house elf!" Dobby puffed his chest out importantly as he said this, but one of his ear-socks drooped slightly, ruining the effect just a little bit.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement. "I would say Diagon Alley then, but I really shouldn't be there right now and I think people will notice me."

"But you is not looking like Harry Potter, sir! Nobody is knowing that Harry Potter has brown hair and brown eyes!" the excitable elf exclaimed, and Harry blanched.

"...At least I know what the potion did now," he muttered. In his experience, potions only had a single effect. Once the effect was found, it was only a matter of waiting the potion out, but looking like someone else was a boon in this case, one that he could use to his advantage."Dobby, could you take me to the Leaky Cauldron, and then take all my stuff from in here and my dorm, please?"

Dobby nodded, grasped Harry's wrist, and harry felt a sensation of... brightness, except in his whole body instead of just his eyes. Then he was standing in an empty bedroom, alone for a second before Dobby popped into existence next to him, setting down the trunk that really should have been too big for him to carry in the first place, along with the cauldron and potions kit. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak out of the trunk, placed the cauldron on top of it, the cloak on top of the entire structure and pushed it into a corner where it would be hidden properly.

"Thanks, Dobby, you're a real life saver," Harry said. Dobby beamed and gave a salute, before vanishing once more. Harry frowned and vowed to hold a proper conversation with him some time in the future. If anyone deserved friendship, it was the elf that had helped him (or at least tried) against his master's wishes.

Turning to the mirror, Harry sighed at his new appearance. He didn't look like anyone that he knew, and he still looked twelve. If he'd only looked around ten, perhaps he would have been able to pass himself off as a new Hogwarts student during his stay. It would be hard to explain away why nobody had seen him before without that excuse.

Harry glanced at his reflection again, hoping to take in exactly what had changed-

And stopped.

His mirror image showed the same shock that he did, but then he just shrugged. Somehow he looked younger now than he had a few minutes ago, and he estimated himself to be around ten. How curious, to borrow a certain wandmaker's words.

From that result alone, Harry concluded that the potion reacted to his thoughts, but he had to check, so he imagined himself with long hair instead of short. Suddenly, his hair was shoulder-length, and he grinned. The smile was almost wiped off his face when he realised that the Polyjuice's time limit should have worn off a long time ago, but he chalked it up to his screw-up and hoped that it would wear off at a time that wouldn't expose him.

For the next few minutes, Harry experimented with different hairstyles, heights, weights, facial structures, eyes and much more, but he still felt that he was missing something that would make his disguise more believable.

He wondered what he was missing. There was something about him that identified him as Harry Potter still, rather than some random kid. He rubbed his head in confusion, but then it came to him and he felt an urge to slap himself.

The kid's mannerisms were identical to his own. Harry wondered if he could remove them and add his own, and when he experimentally lifted his hand to his head again, the movement felt alien to him. Amazed at the convenience, Harry felt his spirits lift as he prepared for to create his own character, like he'd seen Dudley do so many time on the computer games that he played.

* * *

Harry couldn't think of a name. All the complex things he'd had to sort out, and he couldn't think of a _name_. It was very frustrating.

He was up to K in the alphabet now. That was mostly filled with alternative to all the C names, like Kallum, Kurtis, Kameron-

Actually, Kameron sounded nice. He wasn't exactly picky with names, and he could see himself answering to Kameron. A quick thought, and it suddenly felt much more natural to call himself Kameron. Kameron... He was an orphan, so no surname. Just Kameron.

He was ten years old, but scrawny for his age. He had fairly long, dull brown hair, swept to the side with no gel to look like it had barely been cut, and dark brown eyes. His skin was supposed to be olive, but it was a little sickly as he hadn't been in the sun for a while. He didn't wear glasses, but his left eye was slightly short sighted. He wore some clothes that Harry had bought the previous year but never gotten around to wearing, and while they were slightly large for him, they were nowhere near as bad as Dudley's castoffs.

As he looked, Harry raised his arms in front of him, before straightening them, wincing as they each made a loud cracking noise. He'd made many changes that the mirror couldn't convey. He was double jointed, and many of his joints tended to crack. He always put his weight on one foot, and would switch to the other when it got tired. He had a high pain threshold and was a little clumsy. He was unable to sit still for long periods of time and would jerk periodically, and the jerking increased when he was nervous.

Really, anything to set him apart from the legendary Harry Potter, anything that would usually be difficult, if not downright impossible to fake. He needed his own conditions, his own personality, problems, fears, likes, dislikes and who knew what else. But some of his likes had to overlap with Harry's. An interest in quidditch and a knack for flying. Some sweets. A preference to be alone, but a willingness to make friends. He wanted to be different, but he didn't want to be so different as to be suspicious.

There was a tap on the window, and Harry - or Kameron, he supposed - looked up to see someone very familiar. "Hedwig," he breathed, and opened the window to let her in. The moment she was inside, she nipped him between the fingers and held out her leg to him.

Kameron thought he recognised the envelope, and his suspicions proved true when he saw the Hogwarts wax seal on the back. He ripped it open, not even bothering to look at the address on the front, and unfolded the letter.

 _Dear Mr ,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you have no magical relatives, and thus most likely do not know of magic, a professor will arrive on 30 July at noon to give a demonstration of magic and answer any questions you may have. If this date is inconvenient, please attach a letter to the leg of the owl that gave you this letter, stating a time and date._

 _Term begins on 1 September. The visiting professor will provide a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Kameron numbly turned the envelope over in his hands.

 _Kameron ,_

 _The third bedroom on the right,_

 _The Leaky Cauldron_

 _London_

* * *

 **Boom, I did a thing. This story feels like I might actually continue it for a while.**

 **Although that might be more likely if I get reviews. I like it when people give me ideas and point out inconsistencies. Wink wink nudge nudge and all that. In all seriousness though, I view the number (and quality) of reviews as an indicator of success rather than the number of favs and follows.**


	2. Cunning

**You know the drill. Harry Potter is JK Rowling's masterpiece.**

* * *

Harry had never cared much for rain. It was wet and horrible, and it usually signified a bad day.

With a magical umbrella over his head, though, and his need to think things through before he did them, the rain was wonderful for Kameron. The pitter of the drops somehow spurred his mind onto thoughts that he otherwise never would have come up with. The consistent yet ever-changing sheets of water were beautiful in their own way, if he just cared to watch, and the light reflected in the puddles made Diagon Alley feel strangely homely.

Kameron thought that Harry would have liked the rain too, if he'd taken things at a slower pace.

After a lot of deliberation, he'd decided to think of Harry as another person entirely. It was strange and would no doubt be difficult, but in the long term it would mean that he was less likely to screw up and tell someone that he was, in fact, Harry Potter.

The Hogwarts letter had changed his plans a bit. Before, Kameron had been a temporary guise for Harry to take while he figured out how to get back to the magical world in a way that wasn't suspicious. Now, Kameron was an actual person, and if his - no, Harry's - eleventh birthday was anything to go by, Hogwarts wouldn't be denied her students for any reason barring death.

So that left Kameron stuck as, well, Kameron, waiting for a professor to pick him up. His Hogwarts letter was addressed to Diagon Alley, so he was forced to come up with an explanation for why he knew of the magical world when he had no parents to show him.

He'd thought of many excuses, each more ridiculous than the last. His accidental magic had apparated him here. He could see magic itself. He stumbled here by accident one day.

Eventually, he settled on something so stupid that it might work: He was an orphan who had met Harry while he was living on the streets, and while Harry hadn't been able to look after him in any real way because of the Dursleys, he'd helped him figure out his budding magic and regaled him with stories of life in the magical world. Over the Hogwarts school term, Kameron went to school during the day, and slept in a spot in the rafters, using a ladder that he hid in the corner of the courtyard. When Harry hadn't returned from Hogwarts this summer, Kameron had called Dobby as Harry had told him to in a letter near the end of the older boy's second year, and Dobby had apparated him to Diagon Alley, along with Harry's belongings.

Of course, that story had required some setting up. Dobby had gladly taken Kameron to Harry's old primary school, and they'd set up a convincing bed and planted a ladder outside. After that, all it took was a painstakingly written letter, the handwriting copied from his previous year's notes.

 _Dear Kameron,_

 _Sorry for not writing very often, school's been just as bad as last year, but I ended up finding out what was petrifying everyone. It was a basilisk, think a giant snake with eyes that kill you if you look at them. Luckily, everyone saw it indirectly, so they didn't get the full effect of the magic. We got them back to normal after I killed it._

 _Anyway, the reason that I'm writing to you is because I'm not sure I'll be able to go home this year. Bet the Dursleys'll be glad, they'll think I died or something._

 _I can't actually tell you the reason I can't return. Don't worry about me, I'm fine and definitely not being tortured in a basement somewhere. It's just an experiment gone wrong, and it'll take a while to get it right._

 _If I'm not back when I was last year, call Dobby. I asked him to help you in any way that he can, and I freed him from the Malfoys so he isn't punishing himself anymore. Ask him to take you to Diagon Alley, and get ready for Hogwarts if your letter comes. You should get my trunk too, test my wand to see if it works for you, you can't get it to me anyway._

 _After that, just get ready normally. A professor might come to help you around, but don't show them this letter. Just say a friend took you here if they ask. Don't let them into my trunk either, it's private to anyone that isn't you._

 _If you don't get a Hogwarts letter, don't panic. It's probably because we were wrong about your age. In that case, rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the year. There should be a bag of money in my trunk, use that. Don't worry about the price either, I have more money than I can possibly use in my account. This isn't your choice, I want you away from the Dursleys since I can't check up on you in my current position, and school isn't the way to do that._

 _Once you go to Hogwarts, do whatever. Stay within the rules for the most part, but feel free to explore. Find Hermione and Ron if you need help, since I might not be there. If you really need to tell them about knowing me, they'll be suspicious at first but tell them about the broken bars on my window and they should believe you. See if you can get Hedwig too, she'll need a temporary owner._

 _Don't burn this letter, so you can check it again. Sorry for making you worry, but I'll be back before you know it._

 _Love from,_

 _Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Supposed Heir of Slytherin, Youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a Century, Defeater of Basilisks._

There was information in there that would all but confirm that Harry had sent the letter. It would give Kameron an excuse for knowing things that he really shouldn't. It would probably make Kameron the target of fangirls and generic unpleasantness if it became common knowledge, but the plan was for him to have a feasible history to fall back on if people thought him suspicious, rather than to tell the entire story outright. He was pulling all the stops on this one, using every ounce of Slytherin cunning he had.

And apparently, he had many, many ounces of Slytherin cunning. Or he might have gotten that mixed in with the Gryffindor stupidity.

Oh well. At least the rain was nice.

* * *

Kameron was almost done with his shopping. He'd saved the most nerve-wracking part of the list for last, but the time had finally come.

He'd tested his wand already, and it had worked as well as it ever had, but he was certain that if any wand was memorable, it was Harry Potter's, and he didn't want to take that risk.

Then again, he didn't want to take _that_ risk either. Ollivander was unpredictable, and could be either damning or helpful to his plans. He was certain that the man had been a Slytherin at Hogwarts.

Well, no time like the present. He pushed the door open and walked into the dusty room, closing it warily behind him and backing up against it. Strange as he was acting, he doubted Ollivander would see fit to tell anyone, and he really wanted to spot him before he popped up as if by... magic.

He almost smacked his face at the idea that Ollivander had been using _magic_ to startle his customers. Because that wasn't obvious in the slightest.

Looking around though, Kameron spotted the wandmaker staring straight through him. He swore that he was smirking behind the calm facade.

"Ah, informed, are we?" Ollivander chuckled eerily. "Harry Potter. Holly and pheonix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. How has it been treating you?"

Kameron sighed. Damning it was. "It's a brilliant wand. Never failed once, no damage whatsoever, and it still works when I'm Kameron. But..."

"You'd like another, correct?" Kameron nodded. "Hmm. One that isn't so recogniseable. Holly and pheonix, eleven inches, supple... right handed..." The man moved to the back of the store, still muttering. "Handle is three inches, thinned exactly halfway down, used a fallen branch and a tail feather... Aha!" He took down a box and peered inside it. "Yes, this will do nicely. Cherry and pheonix feather, eleven inches, thick and sturdy with an unusual grip. Come on, give it a wave. Try a spell, you won't be punished for it in Diagon."

That stunned Kameron. "You mean I won't get expelled?" At the nod, he looked down at the thick wand in his hand, which almost looked like a dagger with a curving blade. He adjusted his grip a few times, drew a deep breath and thought of everything in the room, save the old man and himself. Then he swished and flicked.

 _"Wingardium Leviosa."_

Immediately, everything that wasn't bolted down rose into the air, settling into place five feet above the floor. Kameron looked around with wide eyes as the wandmaker clapped his hands together gleefully. "Well done, Mr Potter! As you can see, your new wand is very well suited to casting many spells and controlling them simultaneously. But how curious..."

The _Harry_ part of Kameron's mind groaned at this reminder of his first wand choosing ceremony. "What's curious, Ollivander?" he asked, hoping in vain that it was nothing important.

"I had expected that I wouldn't get your wand right on the first try, Mr Potter, but I think I understand why I have." He waited for a second, as if waiting for Kameron to say something, but continued as Kameron opened his mouth. "I believe that when He Who Must Not Be Named attacked you, a small portion of his magic latched onto yours. At the time, your own magic was weak, but You Know Who's was strong. It rejected all but the wand that shared its master's core, but as you grew, your magic began to overpower the invader's. You are now free from the Dark Lord's magic, but your holly wand, which grew up with you, still has a powerful bond with you."

There was another silence, which Kameron realised was to let it all sink in. "However, your magic has changed from the last time you left these doors. I had an idea of what others you would be compatible with, of course, but without the Dark Lord's magic enshrouding your own, the connection is far stronger than I could have expected. I expect that both wands will work just as well for you in a few years, if for different purposes. Again, I am expecting great things from you, Kameron. Don't worry, I have no interest in spilling your secret."

Taking that as a dismissal, and even more unsettled than he had prepared himself to be, Kameron left the store far faster than he'd entered.

And if Ollivander smirked a little wider than usual, well, nobody was there to see.

* * *

 **Wand got!**

 **Cherry and pheonix feather, eleven inches. Thick and sturdy. Looks a lot like a dagger, with a handle thinner than the rest of the wand. Good for controlling multiple spells at once, slashing spells and transfiguration. Bad for shielding spells and powerful singular spells. Nothing odd about the wood or feather, except that the cherry tree was a fairly old bonsai.**

 **Yeah, that's all I got.**

 **I edited this chapter, changing the letter's contents slightly and fixing a few errors.**


	3. Cautious

**Ixnay on the isclaimerday. You already know who owns what.**

* * *

The rest of the holidays went by without incident, excepting the escape of Sirius Black from the wizarding prison Azkaban. Kameron didn't see any of Harry's friends, but that wasn't surprising as they'd most likely only come to the Alley for a day trip.

In other news, he'd gotten bored and figured out some limitations to his new shapeshifting power. His form seemed to retain details such as his name, age and birthday. If he changed how old he was physically, he was that age in regards to how magic affected him. If he changed his name to Kameron, magically addressed letters would say Kameron, and owls would find him if told to find Kameron.

He also couldn't become non-human, although he had switched genders once, which had felt weird but oddly relieving. _She_ could look around the parts of the Alley that _he_ had been afraid to but intrigued by, like the clothes shops and the fluffier of the pets.

And nobody batted an eyelid when she bought heaps of sweets and chocolates, which was nice.

For now, though, Kameron stayed male a lot more often. He knew how males tended to react, and he hadn't really paid enough attention to the behaviour of girls enough to properly emulate them. When he learned, though, a gender swap could become a useful disguise in a pinch.

Kameron had briefly entertained the idea of transforming into an existing person and testing how owls and magic reacted to him, but he was extremely wary of getting into a situation that would out him, by meeting the person he turned into or something just as ridiculous. Even if he went as Hermione, there were probably people who'd seen and talked to her in the Alley before, and having no memory of those conversations could give him away. And if that didn't, his unique wand would.

In short, everything was confusing and nothing was certain. Which was how Harry's life had played out in general, so it really wasn't anything new.

His new power wasn't all controlled experiments, though. As an adult, he could buy plenty of things that he wouldn't otherwise have access to. Things like the lockable-from-the-inside walk-in trunks (banned because it was possible to trap yourself inside) would stand out too much at Hogwarts, but smaller things that he wouldn't use in class were fine. He bought a set of Potion equipment, including cauldrons in several materials that reacted to their ingredients in different ways. He didn't buy a broomstick as he could claim to have inherited Harry's Nimbus if he needed a broom really badly, but he did get a better servicing kit.

The majority of his purchases were books to fill his new Librarian's Abode trunk. Everything from advanced books on the subjects he was currently taking, to magical theory that had little to no use, to household charms, to starter books on Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and all the other third-year subjects went into the trunk, and it was around this point that Kameron finally realised just how much money he routinely carried around with him, as all of it had come from his pouch. It was a good thing he had so much to hand though, because until he could find a picture of Harry, he was locked out of his Gringotts account.

With the exception of those books that he couldn't get without grades at OWL or NEWT level, he was satisfied with everything that he'd bought, but he still went around to stave off the boredom and just in case he'd missed something good.

And he had.

In the back of the bookstore, there were three tiny books that had been pushed so far back that the only indication of their presence was a gap in the rest of the tomes. They seemed to be written by the same author, but there wasn't a name written on them.

The first was titled 'The Art of the Metamorphmagus', and featured a blank face with a constantly changing hairstyle on the front cover. He flipped through it eagerly, but was disappointed by the content. While Metamorphing seemed like his ability at first glance, there were so many differences between the two that the first chapters were almost useless except for research purposes. Still, the later chapters got more into how to make a good disguise, so he decided that he was going to buy it.

The next book was called 'The Science of the Animagus'. On the cover was a figure that kept shifting from humanoid to some kind of bird and back. Again, he skimmed it, and it seemed interesting enough. There was only one thing that caught his attention: the animagus transformation was one of only a few forms of magic that could throw off the effects of Polyjuice, the others being Metamorphing and the werewolf transformation, as well as race specific magic for goblins, house elves and a whole slew of other magical creatures.

He kept reading, and the next paragraph compared the three types of magic, stating that only one of them could exist in any one person, as they all used different forms of the same magic. While malleable at birth, this magic changed form the moment it was used for the first time and would stay that way afterwards, or that was the gist of it. A metamorphmagus would be unable to become a werewolf or animagus, and becoming a werewolf or animagus would prevent you from ever becoming the other. Even the first step of the animagus transformation could prevent werewolf infection, so Kameron wondered why it apparently wasn't taught at Hogwarts. Just like the first book, he decided to buy it.

Kameron could guess the final book, and he wasn't surprised when he read 'The Magic of the Werewolf'. The cover was similar to its animagus counterpart, but the human became a wolf instead of a bird and a full moon rose and fell in the background with each transformation. He flipped through again, but while fascinating, this one didn't seem to hold any presently useful information. He was going to buy it anyway, if only to complete the set.

The books cost a pretty knut and were only sold to people of age, but Kameron had taken to roaming the book store as a twenty-something year old in case of just this kind of situation, so he didn't even need to change.

He brought the books back to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, feeling much more than usual that the books were forbidden to him, and settled down to read a little before bed.

* * *

The next day was July the thirtieth, and Kameron was nervous, fidgeting and jerking uncontrollably. He supposed he could make a calming drought, but that was complex enough to be more frustrating than calming for anyone who wasn't a master.

Instead, he used breathing exercises to calm himself as best as he could, and balanced on one leg to stop himself thinking about it. No matter what happened, being nervous wouldn't help.

In a continuation of the attempt to distract himself, Kameron noted that he was surprisingly stable on one leg. He supposed that it was his new habit of shifting his weight to each foot that did that, and it made him wonder if he could affect his other skills with different habits. He couldn't think of any way to test it, though, so he put the idea to rest for now.

There were a few things that needed thinking about, though. For one, Hedwig had apparently been inducted into the Hogwarts owls, if her delivery to him was anything to go by. He assumed that it was a temporary thing, until Harry showed his face again, but it did make him feel a little lonely.

He also needed to come up with plans to get some more obscure books from the store. All he could think of for now was bribery, but without access to his account for the forseeable future, he didn't want to spend more than the base price for anything. He supposed stealing was another option, but the store probably had anti-theft wards so he wasn't willing to risk it.

After several minutes of brainstorming, it was almost noon and Kameron's best idea was to ask his professors if there was any way he hadn't thought of - for research purposes, of course. Now, though, he had to set up the room for his meeting with the professor that would 'introduce' him to the wizarding world.

It didn't take very long; he hadn't lost any knowledge with the body change and he could do magic without a warning here, so he just waved the dagger-like wand and everything reassembled itself with barely a thought. He couldn't do that with any spells fit for a duel, and couldn't focus enough to move only one object without saying the incantation, but for the quills, ink bottles and other litter around the room, it was perfect. After that, he just straightened out his quilt, and the room looked like nobody had slept there, save for Harry's and Kameron's trunks in the corner.

No sooner had he done that than there was a knock on the door, and Kameron groaned; he'd been hoping for Hagrid again, but that was apparently too much to ask as the knock hadn't broken the door down. He answered it quickly, and was greeted by his future Charms teacher, professor Flitwick. He held in a sigh of relief that it wasn't Mcgonagall, as she would probably see through him in an instant, and instead let the excitable professor in with an awkward smile.

"Kameron, correct?" Flitwick began, and Kameron nodded, unable to look the man in the eyes. "Well, you do seem to be informed of the wizarding world, if your location and trunks are any indication. May I ask as to how you ended up here, as a muggleborn?"

Kameron nervously pulled his brush through the back of his hair, a nervous habit he'd actually picked up naturally as a result of wanting to keep his hair as neat as possible to contrast Harry's. "Well, I'm an orphan and I don't really have anywhere to stay, but I have a friend who goes to Hogwarts, and he took me here a few weeks ago. He gave me a lot of money, too, but he said that it didn't matter." Here he folded his arms and sat forcefully on the bed. "Apparently he has too much to spend anyway."

Flitwick suddenly looked a lot more interested. "What's his name?"

"Not telling," Kameron replied instantly. He didn't have to fake the paranoia in his voice, with his false identity in almost constant danger of discovery. "He'd just get into trouble for not taking care of me properly, wouldn't he?"

Flitwick chuckled. "Of course not! I'm sure it isn't his fault that he had to leave you here. He seems to trust you to take care of yourself, but could I have an estimate on the amount of money that he gave you?"

"I'm not really sure, but after the books and the equipment... I think I have... 300 galleons left. So that'd be enough to live for a year at least..." he trailed off as the professor stared incredulously at him. "What's wrong?"

"...I was just calculating the cost of your first-year equipment," Flitwick said finally. "It could give me an idea of how much you started with."

Kameron nodded, but then shrugged. "It probably wouldn't help anyway, I got lots of extra books and higher quality equipment, because my friend said that was better than having them break on you. I also got some extra ingredients for Potions so I could practice more, and I'm still trying to figure out how I can get the restricted books without having the qualifications. Oh, and someone said I could do magic in areas like Diagon Alley, is that right? I've been practising some simple spells and I think I'm doing okay."

Kameron knew that it _wasn't_ right. After Ollivander's tip-off, he'd done some research on the laws of underage magic and the Hogwarts rules. While underage magic wasn't illegal in magical areas, it was against Hogwarts rules, not that there was any way for that to be enforced.

It was a surprise, therefore, when Flitwick nodded his head and said, "It's perfectly fine! Would you mind showing me some spells that you've been working on?"

Kameron grinned. His entire plan was to get as powerful as possible as early as possible, to give him the best chance of defeating Voldemort. And the best way to do that was to show off. He decided to start off with the very basics and move up to more powerful spells later. " _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," he intoned, and the trunks in the corner lifted off the ground, circled each other in a decent display of control, and piled back on top of each other, much to the Charms teacher's delight.

Maybe if he showed enough skill, he could get some extra, more advanced classes.

* * *

 **This story is kinda all over the place, so I just want to go over Harry/Kameron's motives.** **Really, he doesn't have any in particular. He's assumed that he'll have to fight Voldie, and he wants to prepare for that, but he also wants to live a normal life away from his fame, but he also wants to see his friends and stop them worrying about him, but he also wants to give the wizarding world hope, but...**

 **Basically, he isn't sure what to think. He's created an entire identity out of scratch, but he can't go back to his old one, and he has no idea how to use his new one properly.**


End file.
